


The Seeds of the Dandelion

by transdimensional_void



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Ingenue - Freeform, M/M, Reality, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:57:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transdimensional_void/pseuds/transdimensional_void
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.</p>
<p>A/N: This is a songfic based on the song “Ingenue” by Atoms for Peace. It’s a beautiful and difficult song, and I recommend listening to it before or after you read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seeds of the Dandelion

He could put his hands over his eyes, but the truth would always be there, pressed against the backs of his hands. The dark beneath his palms was no refuge either. The knowing was like a tattoo on the insides of his eyelids — blink. _It was me._ Blink. _It was me._ Blink. _It was me._  

Sometimes he just wanted out — on the nights he listened to Dan next door with someone else, or on the nights Dan spent in his bed. The nights that they sat and waited for the other to bring it up. Or the nights when Dan was gone, and it was just him alone with the knowing.

Sometimes he saw them in the hallway— a startled smile before they disappeared through Dan’s door. They were pretty things, every one of them. Pretty butterflies ready to be pinned, and wasn’t Dan just so proud of his collection?

Sometimes they were barely out the door in the morning before he had Dan in his own bed, reminding him with teeth and tongue and fingertips who it was that he belonged to. 

But Dan never seemed to heed the reminder. He thought it must be because the knowing had become the very air he exhaled, and every word he breathed into Dan’s ear was the same — _It was me. It was me. It was me._

He’d been young; that was it. And when you’re young your head is the stupidest part of you.

He’d sunk feet-first into love, but before he could get too far down, his head had gotten to thinking. He’d thought, _maybe this is all too much too fast_. And he’d also thought, _maybe Dan is too young_. And then the fatal, _fools rush in_.  

He’d thought himself out of one certainty and into another—

“I just don’t think you’re ready for this.”

Of course Dan had denied it. Of course he would. What eighteen-year-old in love isn’t sure he’s ready for this one to be the one? Isn’t that how it works with puppy love? It’s all big, adoring eyes for the first few months, and then they grow up. They find the world is full of other people who aren’t you and they wonder how they ever could have considered settling.

Dan had tried to say _I love you, and that’s enough_ , but Phil was too full of wise caution.

_You’ll get tired of me. You’ll find someone else, someone better, someone you really love, and_

“You’re too young to settle down.”

And now, lying awake in his bed and listening to the muted noises from the other side of the wall, Phil knows that Dan’s only done what he asked — be young and unsettled. And tomorrow when he has Dan to himself again, he’ll run desperate hands down his beautiful skin and wonder if Dan has ever truly been his. Even then, even back then, maybe even then, probably even then—

He is a carcass, and jealousy is a wild dog worrying at his gut. In the morning he’ll wake as bones bleached by a desert sun, but come nightfall the dog will return as always to sniff out some juicy, forgotten remnant.

 

**

 

It’s morning, and he’s holding Dan as close as he thinks he is able to, but he doesn’t know that Dan is drowning. When Dan clings to his hand, he doesn’t know that he is begging Phil to save him. _I only leapt because you asked me to. I only leapt so you would pull me back._

It doesn’t matter whose body is beneath him — it’s always Phil’s. The skin he sticks his fingers to, the name he sighs, the ear he sighs in, if he closes his eyes, they’re Phil’s. He doesn’t know that he is with Dan even when he’s gone. Dan thinks that even if he drowns, he’ll take Phil with him.

When he was a child, the dandelion seeds would all be gone in a single breath, and his mother told him it was because he was loved, wholly and completely.

When he looks at Dan, he only sees the seeds he couldn’t blow away.

They cling to him. They take root in his skin, and they grow, and each one becomes a new, furry cluster of seeds that refuse to all be blown away.

When he holds him, all he feels is insubstantial dandelion fuzz.

He doesn’t know how easy it would be to brush it all away.

 

**

 

When Dan opened his mouth to tell him he was going away, he knew it. It didn’t matter what Dan was saying. It didn’t matter his reasons; he knew why it was happening. _It was me. It was me._

“I don’t think you understand.”

But he did. All those years ago, he’d known for sure he was doing the right thing — if only certainty were something that could be bottled and preserved for later. He’d known, back then, that setting Dan free was the best thing for him. He wished he knew that now. He really did. 

“Which one is it?”

Dan is blinking at him. Dan’s eyes are blank canvases, and he’s so used to painting them with his own insecurities that he no longer knows he is doing it. Dan’s eyes are the color of bracing himself for the worst.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Who?” The word burns his throat on its way out.

“Who?” Dan’s tongue drops the word, like a coal that’s singed it. “No one. For fuck’s sake, Phil, no one! Do you think there’s ever been anyone? Do you think there’s ever really been anyone but you?”

There’s a hyena laughing in his ear, and it’s howling, _How many others? How many nights?_

But, “I only did what you wanted,” Dan is speaking insubstantial words. They hover in the air between them. “I’ve only ever tried to do what you wanted.”

Phil was right, all those years ago. Dan was too young. Dan was a fool, and Phil was an angel who feared to tread.

“It must have been so hard for you,” Phil barks, “fucking all those pretty people.” But what he means is, _I know. It was me. I know. I know._

“Fuck you.” Dan’s voice is not a voice but an empty husk. He’s turning. He’s leaving.

Phil takes a step. It’s too late — years too late to rush in, but Phil takes a step, and

“Wait.”

He takes another step, and another, and he stands at Dan’s side. He brushes one hand against Dan’s solid wrist, and Dan 

waits.


End file.
